


Directionally Challenged

by ShadowsOffense



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Arkham Asylum, Driving, Gen, Prequel, Psychologists & Psychiatrists
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 21:46:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2597534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowsOffense/pseuds/ShadowsOffense
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s easy to lose your way in Gotham, especially when you’re new.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Directionally Challenged

Harleen flipped on her right turn signal, not because there was other traffic around to see it, but because it signified, at least to herself, that she had made a decision, picked a direction. She stared broodingly out her windshield at the unfamiliar streets as her turn arrow flashed on and off hypnotically. It was official: she was lost. At night. In what looked to be one of the worst neighborhoods Gotham had to offer; which was, between herself and _whoever_ , really saying something. Swell. A prefect end to her first day at her new job.

With a mutinous expression, Harleen pulled into the empty intersection and turned left. Because, really, what else was there to do? She chuckled and made another random turn at the next intersection. The way she saw it, sooner or later she’d have to end up _somewhere._

And was she really lost if she didn’t care where she was going anymore?

It was something to think about. Although Harleen suspected the answer lay at the end of a convoluted philosophical debate; one that would become so out of touch with reality that it would cease to have meaning. She hated those.

Belatedly blinking back to the here and now, Harleen braked suddenly and the car squealed to a stop at a red light – why did she bother? There still weren’t any other cars around – and she wacked her head lightly against the steering wheel. “Shouldn’t have made that left turn at Albuquerque, eh Dr. Quinzel?” she told herself, glancing at the boarded up windows with a slightly hysterical giggle. Who was nervous? Not her. Nope.

An oval of light on the clouds overhead caught her attention. She’d have had to be blind to have missed it, actually. Harleen rolled her eyes and drove on as the stoplight turned green again. She’d have thought the cops would be bright enough to have some other way of calling the Batman; one that didn’t tell the bad guys that the Bat was on his way. Or occupied somewhere else. The crazies might be a few fries short of a Happy Meal but they weren’t stupid.

Another left and the Asylum itself rose out of the night… like Dr. Frank-N-Furter’s castle. Similar inhabitants too.

Funny, but she didn’t remember that gaping hole in the side from her orientation tour this morning.

Liked she’d said: a few fries short of a Happy Meal, but not stupid. “While the Bat’s away, the loonies will play.” Harleen swung the car into a tight u-turn and headed firmly in the opposite direction. Stopping break outs was _not_ in her job description. At least she knew her way home from here.

In the review mirror she watched as a giant vine rose up to the hole and a small figure stepped out into the night. Harleen floored it, ignoring the red lights. Pamela A Isley, aka Poison Ivy, was a PBD megalomaniacal psychopath with persecutory linking fantasies, an A-list rogue, confirmed killer, and a _total_ bitch. Harleen wasn’t even authorized to _think_ about that wing of the Asylum yet. She had read the files and that was more than enough. 

The red hair had been pretty though, Harleen _loved_ red; if the girl would only smile she’d be a real looker.

Tires squealed in protest as Harleen rounded a corner at an insane velocity and for a second she thought the car might flip as she cut the wheel as hard as she dared. Two tires went up onto the curb and she laughed with exhilaration. Damn but she loved driving. 

Ivy and the asylum falling away behind her, Harleen slowed slightly but stayed well above the legal limit holding onto the sheer joy that came from driving too fast. It was the first time she’d felt relaxed since getting lost. Of course, she wasn’t exactly lost anymore, if you wanted to get specific about it.

Harleen finally had to slow as other cars joined her on road and buildings once again started to have working lights. If she had any luck at all, and she wasn’t sure she did, she’d make it home before midnight. She _really_ wanted this day to be over and she still had to call her mother before she could get some shut eye. Dr. Quinzel, the newest addition to Arkham’s team of crack headshrinkers, needed her rest. 

Call it a hunch, but she thought work was going to be crazy tomorrow.


End file.
